#marx meadows

[zip-toonz]

Marx and Taranza?

I would kill for her *puts her in my pocket* Meadow rue is a silly little clown who eats all the snacks in the house and breaks all the vases. even worse is she knows the name of every toxic plant on popstar

#kirby #marx kirby #taranza #meadow rue #ship kid design challenge 2022 #i will be keeping these fucks i love them to bits

[likeniobe]

The moon, full and purple-colored, was rising right out of the earth at the end of the meadow. It rose quickly between the branches of the poplar trees, partly hidden as by a tattered black curtain. Then it appeared dazzling white, lighting up the empty sky; slowing down, it let fall upon the river a great stain that broke up into an infinity of stars; and the silver sheen seemed to writhe through the very depths like a headless serpent covered with luminous scales; it also resembled some monstrous candelabra from which sparkling diamonds fell like molten drops. The soft night was about them; masses of shadows filled the branches. Emma, her eyes half closed, breathed in with deep sighs the fresh wind that was blowing. They did not speak, caught as they were in their dream. The tenderness of the old days came back to their hearts, full and silent as across the flowing river, with the soft perfume of the syringas, and threw across their memories shadows more immense and more sombre than those of the still willows that lengthened out over the grass. Often some night-animal, hedgehog or weasel, setting out on the hunt, disturbed the lovers, or sometimes they heard a ripe peach fall by itself from the tree.

from madame bovary, part two: xii, gustave flaubert, trans. eleanor marx aveling and paul de man

#texts #like a headless serpent AND a monstrous candelabra...flaubert you are crazy for this one

[shadowworldwanderers]

Masterlist

Stories on AO3

Old Intros

Introductory Pages:

Morvant-Adjacent Babies:

Sunny ‘Rose’ Sonnshine

Lilah Reed Nyx Bloom Chuck Dourif Helena Reese Matheson-Adjacent Babies: Emilie Mayson Adelaide Dean Deanna Louis Ellie Sutton Marisol Swinton Delilah Symonds

Merrilees Marston Candice Castor Samantha Marston Calleigh Dean Amanda Matthews Judith Ellison Desmond/Desdemona Mercury Matilda Westwood Alexia Mill Hannah Hardstone Willow Walker Barbara Dean

Jessike ‘Sike’ Logan Elvie Ellory Cassidy Cole Elen Ellis Carlie/Carl Connor Essie Ellory Jenni Oriel  Jessamyn ‘Jess’ Oriel  Jessika ‘Sika’ Oriel  Josie Oriel Jodie Oriel  Jazz Oriel   Jemima ‘Jem’ Oriel Jemma Oriel Jade Oriel  Jasmine ‘Mina’ Oriel  Jo Oriel  Janine Oriel Juliet Oriel     Coralee ‘Cora’ Matthews Millie Meadows Joey Jackson Josh Jackson Gia Wolfe Darla Wolfe Arlene Wolfe Brigitta Wolfe Donna Amato Gina Amato Jeanne Amato Aria Amato Willow Amato Carla Amato Fiona Amato Fiamma Amato Isla Amato Inga Amato Anton Allegro Vincenzo Lombardi Solina Ramirez Lolita Sanchez Marisol Espinoza Jodeyne Morrison Ellory Masterson

Mallory McMichaels

Raffaela Romero Malina Ramirez Lina Markov Candida Crowe Adelaide Marconi Emilie Porter Dervla O’Brady Ava Viva DiLorenzo Jessica Dallas Melissa Madison Katrina Archibald Abigail Novak May Southerlyn April Meadows Julie-Anne Callas Pippa Galston Thea Tallis Kate Isles Lily McQueen Jewel Estella Richardson Alexia-Mae Cathstone Eliza-Beth Leigh Izzy ‘Six’ Sexton-Richards Alice Anais Andrews Britta Roslin Julie Dark Alexandra Jane Castle Jodie Noelle Richards Tallie Marx Michaela Philippa Kingsman Love Aniston Jessie Cole Tali Rice Hollie Mann Madison Mitchell-Mann Roslyn Hall Cariad Hall Joe-Lee Parton Bobby Parton Jim Parton Sonny Parton Lupa Wolfe Anne Rose

Belle Rose Jade Orton Jennifer Orton Jessica Orton Mirabelle Orton Judith Amato Angel Croft Brittany Walker Julietta Day Shadow World Babies: Angelike Kirk Eliana Olivier Marisol ‘Sunshine’ Corazon Annabella Sciorra Gianna Fioretti Rhiannon Ellis Cara Sutton Kat Trellis Kimber Bell Marisol Lees Ria Leigh Delilah Daae Hanna Weiss Mindie Swallows Kismet Christian Juliette Loomis Vanessa Myers Arielle Sea Ellie Dewey Lace Belle Esme Innocent Katie Rollins Cherie ‘Cherry’ Garcia Jessie Wolfe Erin Willows Suzannah Davies Emilia Loss Melanie Jeffries Meredith Greylek Kelly Greylek (No relation to Meredith) Cassidy Rubirosa Candice Banks Kendra Copper Ariadne Todd Desdemona Hex Raven Rose Candace ‘Candy’ Caine Angelina Haven Mina Schiff Callie Dennis Esme Ross Susanna Johnson Consuela ‘Connie’ Sanders Raffaela ‘Raffi’ Angeles Ariel Warton Syren Sirena Hela Helios Anne Dread Rose Rayes Hope Evans Faith Hopkins Elizabeth ‘Eliza’ Eames-Olivet Alexandria ‘Alex’ Eames-Olivet April Dawson June May May Engel Augusta Haim Billy Wolfe Savannah Stanley Stanley Cyprus Kellie Cyrano Bella Wolfe Mina Marston Nadiya Corazon Annalise Sciorra Samantha Southhall Amelia Borstein Elena Greenwood Elizabeth Preston Suella Randall Marienne Rubirosa Lilith Morningstar Saralee Rayes Destiny Dracula Martha Curatola Solina Dracula

Valentine Dracula Queenie Annabeth Queen Lily Sharpe Isobel Rubirosa Rose Wolfe Lily Marigold Savannah Rider Marigold Rose Baby Baker Mami Morrison Sugar ‘Sweet’ Sunshine Melody Eros Allie Gayson-Enders Pippa Gayson-Enders Michaela Orville-Hampton Janet Orville-Hampton Mariposa Shadows Lolita Mayhew Tamberlyn Alexara Sukila  Arielle Denver Suzanne Denver Thalin Chelsea Heart Jessica Brisbin Henna Jenkins Dora Jessop Kathleen Shore Samantha Carson Sarah Carson Karen Nielsen Belinda Andrews Amelie Ellis Sister Tatjana Nichols Madison ‘Sugar’ Fuller Daniel Rabebe Angelika Rabebe-Cortez

Lady Liandrin MacBeth Juliet MacIntosh John-Ross Croft Annchi ‘Angie’ Croft Morgana Addams Angeline ‘Angel’ Verna Lane Eulalie Tamerlane Poe

#opening masterlist #shadow world #original creations #morvant verse #rhiannon's angels #matheson-verse #diner crew #oriel wolves

[paul-walker9]

WGN News at Nine. Chicago, IL. November 30, 2013. Event occurs at 21:32 CST (32 minutes). WGN-TV/WGN America.

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Atkin, Hillary (June 6, 2003). "Walker's in the 'Fast' lane to film stardom". USA Today. Retrieved December 3, 2013.

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Alexander, Julia (October 20, 2015). "Furious 7 used 350 CGI shots of Paul Walker". Polygon.

Warner, Sam (October 17, 2015). "How CGI saved Fast 7's Paul Walker scenes". Digital Spy.

* "Report: Paul Walkers death forces delay of Fast and Furious 7 shoot". HitFix. December 1, 2013. Archived from the original on December 2, 2013. Retrieved December 3, 2013.

'Fast & Furious 7' will shoot scenes with doubles and replace Paul Walker with CGI to keep him in the film – NY Daily News

The Deadline Team (April 15, 2014). "Paul Walker's Brothers Jumping in to Help Finish 'Fast & Furious 7′ Action Scenes – Deadline". Deadline.

Trumbore, Dave. "Paul Walker Leads HITMAN Reboot in AGENT 47". Collider. Retrieved December 3, 2013.

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"Tyrese Gibson Heartbroken Over Paul Walker's Death". ABC News. December 4, 2013. Retrieved December 10, 2013.

Maresca, Rachel; Hutchinson, Bill (February 4, 2014). "'Fast & Furious' actor Paul Walker leaves $25 million to 15-year-old daughter". New York Daily News. Retrieved December 16, 2021.

Ehrenfreund, Max (December 3, 2013). "Paul Walker's girlfriend, daughter, fellow actors mourn his death". The Washington Post. Retrieved November 25, 2021.

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"REACH OUT Worldwide". REACH OUT Worldwide.

Arnold, Catherine (September 25, 2006). "Paul Walker and Marine Biology: Foundation Presents Marine Awards". Nature World News. Retrieved March 8, 2013.

"Paul Walker Leads Shark Expedition". Starpulse.com. November 12, 2009. Archived from the original on April 26, 2010. Retrieved November 15, 2009.

"Actor Paul Walker Joins National Geographic Shark Expedition". DiverWire. November 13, 2009. Archived from the original on December 3, 2009. Retrieved November 15, 2009.

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Smith, Perry (November 30, 2013). "UPDATE: Paul Walker, Santa Clarita CEO Reportedly Killed In Car Crash". KHTS Radio. Retrieved November 30, 2013.

"Walker and Rodas, you will be missed". Motor Sport. December 1, 2013. Retrieved December 2, 2013.

"Suit Over Paul Walker's Car Collection Settles". NBC Southern California. Retrieved August 6, 2018.

"Fast and Furious actor Paul Walker's cars go under hammer, fetch $2.33 mn". auto.hindustantimes.com. January 19, 2020. Retrieved January 19, 2020.

Duke, Alan; Sutton, Joe (November 30, 2013). "'Fast & Furious' star Paul Walker killed in car crash". CNN. Retrieved November 30, 2013.

"Autopsy blames impact and fire for actor Paul Walker's death". CNN. December 4, 2013. Retrieved December 18, 2013.

* "Officials: Paul Walker crash not part of street race". The Press Democrat. Santa Rosa, CA. December 3, 2013. Retrieved December 7, 2013.

"Publicist: Fast & Furious Actor Paul Walker Dies in Car Crash". Time. New York. November 30, 2013. Archived from the original on December 9, 2013. Retrieved November 30, 2013.

Schabner, Dean (November 30, 2013). 'Fast and Furious' Star Paul Walker Killed in Crash". ABC News.

Joel Landau (November 30, 2013). "Paul Walker dead at 40: 'Fast and Furious' star killed in fiery car crash". Daily News. New York. Archived from the original on December 1, 2013. Retrieved November 30, 2013.

"Fast & Furious actor Paul Walker dies in California car crash". BBC News. December 1, 2013. Retrieved December 1, 2013.

Wood, Daniel B. (December 4, 2013). "Paul Walker crash could 'romanticize' growing street racing culture". The Christian Science Monitor. Retrieved December 7, 2013.

"Speed may have been factor in Fast and Furious star Paul Walker's crash". Sunday Morning Herald. January 4, 2014. Retrieved January 4, 2014.

""Fast & Furious"-Star : Walker-Auto war fast 100 Stundenkilometer zu schnell". Die Welt (in German). January 4, 2014. Retrieved January 4, 2014.

"Paul Walker death investigation: Police rule out second vehicle, focus on speed". CNN. Retrieved December 2, 2013.

Duke, Alan (March 26, 2014). "Investigators: Speed – not drugs, racing or mechanical failure – killed Paul Walker". CNN. Retrieved March 26, 2014.

Gonzalez, Maricela. "'Fast & Furious 7' production halted after Paul Walker's death". Entertainment Weekly. Retrieved December 5, 2013.

"'Speechless' Vin Diesel pays tribute to Paul Walker". The New Zealand Herald. Auckland. December 2, 2013. Retrieved December 2, 2013.

"Paul Walker has been Buried at The Forest Lawn Memorial Park Cemetery in the Hollywood Hills Today". Allvoices.com. December 4, 2013. Archived from the original on January 14, 2014. Retrieved December 18, 2013.

Brian Lowry (August 10, 2018). "'I Am Paul Walker' brings more nostalgia than depth to actor's life". CNN. Retrieved March 21, 2019.

Zuckerman, Esther. "Paul Walker's dad files claim against estate of driver in fatal car crash". Entertainment Weekly. Retrieved January 8, 2015.

Bever, Lindsey (September 29, 2015). "Paul Walker's teen daughter sues Porsche over his death in fiery crash". The Washington Post. ISSN 0190-8286. Retrieved January 7, 2016.

"Porsche Blames Paul Walker For His Own Death". www.yahoo.com. Retrieved November 17, 2015.

D'Zurilla, Christie (October 25, 2017). "Paul Walker's daughter settles with Porsche in wrongful-death suit". Los Angeles Times. Retrieved June 6, 2018.

ANTHONY McCARTNEY, Judge: Porsche not at fault in crash that killed Paul Walker April 5, 2016

Child, Ben (April 6, 2016). "Judge rules Porsche not to blame for Paul Walker's death". The Guardian. Retrieved April 6, 2016.

[distraughtmary]

To Uncreate You. Chapter 1 and the synopsis

The Synopsis

After discovering that he is capable of magic, Dmitry is forced to enrol into the only magic school in Siberia that has a place even for a university graduate such as him. However, Dmitry appears to only possess destructive powers, failing to recreate his very first act of magic that brought something unusual into the world, and has to sign up for individual classes with a fellow named Valera, whose magic is prone to creating things out of nothing. Dmitry, on his arduous path to making sense of his potential, crosses ways with Egor, who is too curious about Dima and too eager to make friends with him… or something more. Meanwhile, the magic school harbours too many secrets that do not mesh well with Dmitry’s, and staying true to himself will be a challenge even with the support of new and old friends.

Chapter 1

The Zayeltsovskaya metro station was unnervingly silent when it should have been bustling with people desperate to catch the last train. The old-fashioned lamps that once had been considered futuristic barely lit the platform and its sole occupant, who was standing at the first mark indicating where a train’s door would open. It was a young man in a dark-blue parka and a nondescript black hat, his face covered with a black surgical mask only to reveal thin brows and piercing green eyes. They happened to be fixated at the screen with numbers above the train tunnel, and the red digits, indicating that it was 11.40pm, suggested that it had been twenty minutes since the latest train had passed the station. The implication made the man nervously shuffle his feet and reach for his smartphone for the umpteenth time to check if the issue had made the local news as every single inconvenience in Novosibirsk tended to do, but the outlets were silent on the matter.

A metro attendant, who had been hiding in one of the security booths, noticed the man’s singular and suspicious presence and trotted towards him, her hand in a firm grip of the black baton.

‘Young man,’ she said, slightly out of breath. ‘Remove your mask and show me your ID immediately’.

The man hesitated upon seeing that the woman had no mask herself and could easily pass “the zaraza” to him, but decided to do as she said, perhaps out of fear of getting involved with the Russian police that rarely let one go unpunished. He unpeeled the mask, exposing a meadow of freckles covering his face and sharp nose in particular, rosy cheeks, their color emphasized by those freckles, and a soft mouth twisted in subtle annoyance. The attendant might have been within her right to demand what she had done, but it did not make the situation any more pleasant. Then the man rummaged in his leather bag, which dangled dangerously close to the station’s polished mirror-like platform, and produced his maroon ID, preemptively open at his personal information page. The woman snatched it from him hungrily and started reading aloud.

‘Angarskiy Dmitry Alexandrovich, born on the 31th of December, year 2000, male. The photo appears to match face… Well, Dmitry Alexandrovich, it must be nice to have your birthday on the same day as New Year’s Eve. Now, let’s see…’

The attendant turned over the page to look at Dmitry’s place of registration, which made him tense.

‘Aha! Dmitry Alexandrovich, you live exactly above this station, so what business do you have taking the last train away from your house?’ she said triumphantly, having found exactly what she needed to apprehend the guy, at least in her dutiful mind.

Dmitry’s face tightened at the question, as it made too much sense, and nothing he could say would make the tenacious woman reconsider. He straightened himself and prepared to babble some nonsense about having a relative around the Karl Marx station (which he actually did according to his grandma, but he did not even know her name), but the salvation came in the form of a sound of someone skipping down the stairs, and the attendant’s attention immediately shifted to another phantom enemy of the state. Her adversary was a guy who was apparently undaunted by the Siberian winter, his black hair messily waving around the hatless head. His clothes looked obscenely light for the weather, and Dmitry could not help but notice that his zipper was undone, but fortunately for all of them, the jeans appeared to have enough fabric inside to cover anything indecent. Before the guy could reach the platform, the lady attendant was there at the foot of the stairs, ready to grab him, and Dmitry hastily adjusted his mask and was about to leave through the other entrance equipped with escalators. Out of nowhere, a female voice announced the arrival of the long-awaited train, and just as Dmitry was arriving at the fateful decision, the new guy whispered something into the attendant’s ear that made her look satisfied and hopped to a spot next to him. The woman remained indifferent despite such a breach of discipline and re-entered her booth, presumably to spend the rest of the night there.

‘Are you here for the school, too?’ the guy asked cheerily, his teeth too white for the gloomy station. Dmitry looked at him closer, discovering azure eyes and a curved nose with a small mole on it as well thin lips and unattended stubble that somehow complimented the handsome face. While Dmitry was bracing himself to say a simple ‘yes’, a train’s rumble became audible, and the poor fellow’s answer was completely drowned out by the vehicle’s stopping shriek. The doors opened, and both men entered an empty car, which was not surprising for the starting station in the line but still felt eerie.

Dmitry took a seat next to the door while the other guy just grabbed the horizontal iron bar and situated himself over Dmitry, clearly intent on continuing the conversation.

‘So, I didn’t hear you, are you going to the school?’ he asked again, less cheerily and less teethy.

‘Yes,’ Dmitry replied curtly through the mask, his voice distorted, not willing to engage himself in a talk with another person, not matter how charming they might be.

‘Great. I’m Egor, by the way. I had to take a bus from Rodniki and was almost late. Ugh, when are they going to build a new damn station? The third city in the whole country, and some of us still feel like we live on the outskirts,’ the guy complained in a rapid breath, his left hand mimicking his indignation.

‘Yeah,’ Dmitry managed another short reply and started reaching for his smartphone.

‘Hey, what’s your name? And you could remove that mask, I’m vaccinated, you know,’ Egor said, a hint of discontent in his voice.

‘And I’m not,’ Dmitry retorted, equally vexed.

‘Are you one of those anti-vax people? Or do you think magic will protect you from germs because that’s definitely not the case,’ the guy said patronizingly, further annoying Dmitry. He no longer looked as pleasant as the first impression had suggested.

‘That’s none of your business, and can you get off my case, please? There’s plenty of room in this car, you don’t have to stand here and waste your precious time on the likes of me,’ Dmitry said, finally getting hold of his smartphone. He took it out and started swiping his fingers aggressively over the protected surface, completely ignoring the other guy.

‘Hey, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize… You could be one of those exemption cases. Ok, I’m a dummy, but at least tell me your name, pretty please? We are going to study together, and I don’t want any bad blood between us,’ Egor said apologetically, his face awfully similar to that of a puppy.

‘Dmitry,’ he replied, not taking his eyes off the smartphone.

‘Nice to meet you,’ Egor said politely. ‘Can I call you Dima?’

‘No.’

‘Why?’

‘Because you aren’t my friend and you aren’t doing a great job of making me want to do anything with you,’ Dmitry replied exasperatedly, his fingers still spidering over the smartphone’s screen.

‘I did save you from that woman, didn’t I? I heard the commotion from the turnstiles hall and climbed down the stairs as fast as I could,’ Egor smiled, seemingly proud of himself.

Dmitry raised his eyes, the smartphone suddenly forgotten.

‘What did you tell her?’ he asked, half-curiously. ‘I doubt it was a simple “oh you look beautiful tonight.”’

‘I used some of manipulation magic, looked up the spells online. I hadn’t tried them before that little trick, but it worked, and everyone was happy,’ Egor said smugly. ‘Why didn’t you use your magic, I bet you already know a spell or two.’

‘I thought we weren’t supposed to use magic,’ Dmitry shrugged. ‘I’d rather learn first and then start casting spells around, not really knowing what they do.’

‘Sure, but this private Telegram chat I found was the real deal. I only tried some minor stuff, like how to light a candle by just looking at it. So you didn’t do any experiments at all?’

‘Nope,’ Dmitry replied. ‘Granny has some books on magic back from the USSR, but nothing I read there was really useful, and I wasn’t about to call myself a God’s slave or worse to make them work.’

‘Heh, such books are mostly bogus, trust me. So, you know anything about that school?’ Egor asked, trying to change the subject.

‘Well, it’s near my uni, judging by the address, the same street, but I never saw the building itself and I have no idea why we have to use the last train to reach it through some secret tunnel,’ Dmitry said, crossing his legs and trying not to kick Egor in the process, although the desire was more or less burning.

While they were deep in the conversation, the train kept going, making no stops during all that time. The next one was the Lenin Square station, as the female announcer had proclaimed to no one in particular.

‘Do you mean the teacher’s uni? What are you studying there?’ Egor asked, surprised.

‘I already graduated, and I wasn’t interested in doing my Masters, not that I had the money anyway. Still, they told me to wait until the next year, build up my portfolio, but with this magic thing that’s out of the window, I guess. And I was studying history… well, to be a history teacher’ Dmitry replied, suddenly talkative.

Egor’s face brightened at the success of making his previously unwilling partner-in-magic talk, and he started firing off ever more questions.

‘Teacher, huh? And history, wow. Never liked that one, but mad respect to you, bro,’ Dmitry flinched at that comment but decided not to say anything. ‘So you like teach at a public school or something? Kinda funny that you’re about to be a student again.’

‘No, I don’t work at school, basically nobody does after graduating, and don’t ask me why, I have my reasons,’ Dmitry said, brushing aside the potential comments to follow.

‘Ok, ok, so what do you do for living then? You must have a job, especially in this economy.’

‘Well, what do YOU do?’ Dmitry retorted, starting to get annoyed again. ‘I can’t be the only one spilling my guts here.’

‘I graduated from the NSU, majored in… physical informatics, I know, I know, it sounds weird, but that’s what I studied,’ Egor glanced at Dmitry, expecting laughter or derision, but the latter only raised his eyebrows at the strange name. ‘I got a job at a reputable organization, but I’m not sure if I’ll be able to juggle both the job and the magic studies, and you can’t really opt out of the magic thing once it manifests.’

Egor sounded quite regretful when he said that, and Dmitry felt a bit sorry for him despite their rocky start.

‘My so-called job is nothing to write home about, and I don’t want to say what it is because it’s shameful, but I think I’ll manage to do it together with my studies, and even if I don’t, my brother said he’d take care of the family, so…’ Dmitry trailed off, not caring that he had revealed another goldmine for Egor to dig into.

‘Oh, you have a brother? Who is he? Does he know about your gift?’ the guy inquired excitedly, accidentally removing his right hand from the iron bar and almost falling straight into Dmitry.

‘Hey, careful, curious Varvara,’ Dmitry said, not unkindly. ‘I don’t really want to talk about my brother now. It’s… complicated.’

‘You are complicated,’ said Egor with a grin. ‘Well, does he have the same eyes as you, at least? I kinda like them even though they’ve been judging me ever since we passed the Gagarinskaya station.’

‘What in the…,’ Dmitry gasped at the out-of-nowhere compliment, his masked cheeks flushed, but then a new announcement drew their attention.

‘Switching to the Oktyabrskaya line,’ an unknown male voice said, a contrast with a typical feminine announcer.

‘Oktyabrskaya line? That doesn’t exist in the city,’ Egor said with suspicion.

‘We must be approaching our destination,’ Dmitry rationalized. ‘Magic isn’t supposed to exist either.’

‘You might have a po-,’ Egor was about to concede just as the train suddenly started gaining speed, sending him flying, this time not sparing Dmitry. His head landed on Dmitry’s chest, his hands circled Dmitry’s waist, and legs met legs.

‘God, I’m so so-,’ Egor tried to apologize and raised his hand to grab the vertical bar protruding from the seat’s thin armrest, but the train jerked hard, and his fingers fell on Dmitry’s face, awkwardly moving the mask down the frustrated guy’s nose.

‘Wow, I’ve never seen so many fre-,’ he unsuccessfully tried to finish his sentence, only to be interrupted by the train’s abrupt stop. Egor was forced to the left, but not before his fingers snatched the rest of the mask from Dmitry’s face, snapping one of the straps in the process. It helplessly fell to the seat, never to be used again, and Egor finally took a good look at Dmitry’s face.

‘You know, your eyes aren’t the only good thing about you,’ he said, half-sprawled on the car’s floor.

In return, Dmitry kicked him in the shins, causing the ‘ooh’ sound, and said, his voice no longer muffled by the mask:

‘You know, your zipper’s still undone.’

He stood up, stepped over Egor’s spindly legs, completely ignoring the guy’s embarrassed face and futile attempts at concealing the hole of indecency, where one could see a hint of the underwear, and walked through the gap left by the doors into the unknown.

Read the rest of the chapters on my website: https://danceonthebrink.wordpress.com

#writing #writeblr #amwriting #m/m romance #m/m fiction #queer #to uncreate you

[ramrodd]

Marx, Robert Paul Wolff Lecture 5

Zany = Chaos

COMMENTARY:

What Hegel was trying to explain was the necessity of the irrational. Your description of the debate that had been going on since Plato left Aristotle out of his will validates my intuitions of Marx going back to 1962. It's a pleasure to listen to someone who takes such pleasure in actually understanding Marx except for Hegel. Newton, Kant and Hegel recognized that Newton's calculus had serindipedously tripped over chaos, the dynamical interactions of the elements of the universe that makes thinks actually work. And it is all irrational. Take fire: how does that actually work? How do you build a model to feed New York City for a day? At some point, it just happens.

It helps to know the mind of God. ZIP Codes are a snap shot of the mind of GOD. Topology is the mathematics of the mind of God and Number is the metaphysical figure of the mind of God. Those are both Rational components of the Mind of God. I would probably add Euclid as a third element of the mind of God. The fourth element is the the irrational behaviors of the Spirt of the Lord in Genesis 1:2.

19 is the Alpha and Omega of Number. The fact that it originates from the mind of Islam is significant.

I've studied numerology since I took Finite Math the summer before my Freshman year at IU. The SDS was holding public debates on campus every Thursday in Dunn Meadow basically protesting America's commitment to Vietnam. I'm an Army brat and I had friends who were in Saigon when the Viet Cong declared war as a proxy for the godless commie cocksuckers in Hanoi and they were evacuated in 24 hours: The Army wasn't going to let the Philippines happen again to their camp followers.

I am mildly dyslexic. It has complicated my life in various ways and a graduate student in the Finite Math course suggested i learn how to do numerology as a method to mediate the effect and it works as well as without it is about the best I can say. Number is a figure of speech in literature and the Bible is just chock full of number in at least three layers.

But the adoption of Arabic symbols for basic arithmetic and the invention of "0" as a place holder is a metaphysically necessary game changer. I happen to believe in Intelligent Design, which could be another title for Process Theology, and how we get from the Hebrew Gematria to 0,1 is through Sura 74:32   " Above it is 19" , This is the clearest portrait of the mind of God in literature and establishes the divine origin of the Meccan verses of the Koran. The rest are the musings of a psychopath.

So, the question Kant proposes is: what exactly is the cognitive organization of the mind of God and how can we access a priori data directly. I do not believe in God: God has given me a sample of the torture Mohammad went through to obtain the recitation in order to pass it on.

The discovery of chaos at the end of Newton's dilution of gravity machine makes things like fusion probable. The senses are irrational and are mediated by iNtuition, which is sort of the plasma that occurs from everything that is going on in the experience of the person. Thinking and Feeling are the rational component of the psyche that lets us learn from experience. The problem, of course, is that Feeling are those values anchored in the libido and irrational. A dangerous conceit of the Feeling function is that it can rise above the Pucker Factor. Feeling IS the Pucker Factor that may be potty trained but is eternally anal.

Hegel is the guy who gets to the mouth of the Cave and is trying to describe the color red to the guys who are still locked in place watching shadows of the wall. Of course, when he got to the mouth of the cave, he met Newton and Kant trying to convince Hume there was suck a thing as Cause and Effect. Thinking is what Hume is all about. Jung's Thinking function is the White Horse of Reason pulling the Parable of the Chariot across the Tabula Rasa of Locke's experiential construct. And Feeling is the Black Horse of Passion in brace with Reason but constantly pulling against the lead drawn by its self-indulgent appeal to lusts and irrational appetites. The Chariot, of course, is the Ego, generally, and consciousness, in particular. As a function of the Pucker Factor, the individual consciousness can Extrovert and Introvert automatically as a function of requisite variety, but, as we satisfy those contingencies, we gain controlling variety and can deliberately dissociate as a creative strategy.

And Hegel provides a reliable roadmap for tracing the effects of historic bench marks and as a reliable structure for projecting pro-active strategies forward in time through the mechanisms of capitalism as a tool of intelligent design.

Well, I go stuck at timestamp 4:49 . I'll watch the rest of it. Like I say, my intent is to encourage Biden voters to watch this series and the one on Kant to validate the wisdom of their leap of faith by voting for Biden. It was a good bet and you are helping explaining why.

Among other things. it will reveal the fraud in Steve Bannon's claim that he is a Leninist. Bannon is a George Lincoln Rockwell neo-Nazi and he seduced Trump into thinking that way. Trump was channeling George Lincoln Rockwell in his Inaugural Address. Him and Pat Buchanan.

#youtube

[whatsonmedia]

8 Upcoming Gigs and Concerts this week!

Music is the unique feed of the mind which can refresh your mind among all the anxiety, so music lovers get ready to rock on. This week Whatson editorial has listed the biggest music concerts and gigs around the world where you can join with the tune. Cold Waves X LA 2022 29 – 30 September 2022 Line-up: Front 242, Nitzer Ebb, Revolting Cocks, Kite, Xeno & Oaklander, Rein, Dj Andi, Actors (CA), Spike Hellis, High Functioning Flesh, and other artists are on the line-up. Venue Mayan Theater 1038 S. Hill St. 90015 Los Angeles (LA), CA, US ULTIMA RATIO FEST 2022 29 September 2022 Line-up: Moonspell, My Dying Bride, Borknagar, Wolfheart, and Hinayana also including Batschkapp, Frankfurt, Germany Venue Batschkapp Gwinnerstrasse. 5 60388 Frankfurt, Germany >batschkapp.tickets.de Prophecy Fest 2022 29 September – 01 October 2022 Lineup: Empyrium, Saturnus, Of The Wand & The Moon, darkher, A Forest of Stars, and others; Alcest, Antimatter, Arthur Brown, Coven, and Winterfylleth. Venue Balver Höhle Helle 2 58802 Balve, Germany Derby Alt Fest 2022 29 September – 01 October, 2022 Line-up: The rocks Martyr Defiled, Evil Scarecrow, and Inhuman Nature are performing there. Venue The Hairy Dog 1 Beckett Street DE1 1HT Derby, UK Firewater music festival 2022 29 September – Saturday 01 October 2022 Lineup: Whiskey Myers, Old 97's, Blackberry Smoke, Nikki Lane, and Goodbye June make up the lineup. Additionally, performances by Them Dirty Roses, Austin Meade, 49 Winchester, Read Southall Band, The Quaker City Night Hawks, and more are scheduled. Venue Wildwood Outdoor Education Center 7095 W 399th St 66040 LaCygne, KS, US Pop Montreal Festival 2022 Friday 30 September 2022 Line-up: The rock band Born Ruffians, Abigail Lapell, Lexsoul Dancemachine, will perform there also Balaklava blues, and Sham Family About Born Ruffians is a Canadian band that was founded in 2002 and is from Midland, Ontario. They have produced four studio albums and two EPs since their debut, and have grown to be one of the most innovative and engaging bands on the renownedly vibrant Canadian indie rock scene. Venue Le Ministère 4521 Boulevard Saint-Laurent H2T 1R2 Montreal, QC, Canada [phone] Lost In Dreams 2022 30 September – 01 October 2022 Line-up: Renowned bands like Madeon, Whethan, San Holo, Autograf, HALIENE, Kaivon, AMIDY, K?D (US), nøll, N3WPORT, and others performing on stage About Pop, House, and Electro. DJ, songwriter, producer, and musician. These are the credits that Madeon, who is based in Nantes, France, has been giving us since 2009. Venue Downtown Las Vegas Events Center (DLVEC) 200 S. Third St. 89101 Las Vegas, NV, US 702-388-2101 >dlvec.com Hardly Strictly Bluegrass 2022 30 September 2022 – 02 October 2022 Line-up: The Tallest Man On Earth, Emmylou Harris, Lucius, Waxahatchee, Galactic, Jay Som, Antibalas, Aoife O'Donovan, Marcus Mumford, Jesse Colin Young, and many more Venue Hellman Hollow, Lindley & Marx meadows in Golden Gate Park, San Francisco, CA. Read the full article

[studyingenvironments]

3 May 2022: Environmentalism & Capitalism

The final thoughts for the semester from articles “What Every Environmentalist Needs to Know About Capitalism”, “Capitalism vs. the Climate”, and “Making it Happen, Out of the Wreckage” offer an honest reality of the relationship between environmentalism in our capitalist economic system. 

“What Every Environmentalist Needs to Know About Capitalism” covers the failure of world leaders and the inflexible capitalist system that fails to address the threat to life on the planet (Magdoff 1). More people inhabit the earth every second, and economists theorize that our free-market economy has no bounds. As it was addressed in the “Impossibility Hamster” video, everything has a carrying capacity (“The Impossibility Hamster -- What’s Wrong with Endless Population & Consumption Growth”). Current environmental issues that continue to be causing devastation to biodiversity include the melting of arctic ocean ice, the disintegration of the Greenland and Antarctic ice sheets, the decrease of the world's mountain glaciers, and devastating droughts. The planetary boundaries are nine critical thresholds of the earth system: climate change, ocean acidification, stratospheric ozone depletion, the biogeochemical flow boundary (the nitrogen and phosphorus cycles), global freshwater use, change in land use, biodiversity loss, and chemical pollution. 

The author identifies one of our earlier readings, Meadow’s “The Limits of Growth“, echoing the idea that in society today ‘enough is little.’ Statistics show that if the gross domestic product growth rate isn’t substantially greater than the increase in population, people lose jobs. The increase in population is calculated through the population change formula: (Births + immigration) - (deaths + emigration). Corporations maximize, however, during periods when workers' unions and political parties were democratizing, capitalist countries of Europe instituted more safety net programs, such as universal healthcare, unlike the United States. Most people need to work in order to sustain their lifestyle, however many of these jobs exist within the bottom rungs of the labor force; these workers are the first to lose their jobs in times of economic crisis. This neglected group is what Karl Marx referred to as the reserve army of labour. Industrial production needs reform, and in order to sustain the future of the planet’s biodiversity, we must strive to overthrow our current political and economic system to construct a genuine Socialist system. Klein’s “Capitalism vs. the Climate” dives further into the climate change denialists response to this idea to reorganize our political and economic systems. 

“Capitalism vs. the Climate” opens with conversations of climate change deniers, claiming that climate change is not related to the state of the environment, but rather an attempt to shackle capitalism, transforming our free-market economy in the interest of wealth redistribution (“Capitalism vs. the Climate” 2). Climate deniers have often come to the realization that in order to revitalize industry, it would require radically re-ordering the economic and political systems in place. Progressives must create a coherent dialogue about the intersectionality of environmentalism and social justice, as well as the perils of unrestrained greed, and the need for change. For infographics and information regarding intersectional environmentalism, I highly recommend the instagram @intersectionalenvironmentalist. There are so many overlaps in various social justice movements, and undoubtably progressives are stronger together; I think it’s up to debate whether a coherent dialogue has been established (Klein). 

Climate deniers often point to the failures of communism to deter Americans from the political and economic overthrow required for the reconciliation of Industry, when in reality, Soviet-era state Socialism led to the rise of industry, devouring resources and spewing waste recklessly. Climate change activists are calling for a reversal of the 30-year privatization trend of industry and agriculture, advocating for smart growth and land-use planning to restore natural habitats. This means taxing carbon emissions, increasing taxes on corporations and the 1%, reallocating the military budget, and eliminating subsidies in the fossil fuel and agriculture industries. This will not be possible if it is not accompanied by an effort to reduce the influence that corporations have in politics (Klein). 

“Making it Happen” by Monbiot cites “Rules for Revolutionaries: How Big Organizing Can Change Everything” by Bond and Exley, two former campaign advisors to Bernie Sanders. In the Bernie Sanders 2016 Presidential campaign, many volunteers were new to campaigning and were found to be even more enthusiastic and creative than veteran campaigners. Bernie raised $230 million from 2.8 million people in his 2016 campaign for the Democratic primaries. Now with the benefit of hindsight, it’s clear that door-to-door campaigning and callers can be incredibly successful method for organizing progressives. Perhaps for the next grassroots candidate, this may be used in an attempt to privatize the campaign and respond early to creating volunteer leadership structures in other states prior to the hiring of staffers throughout the election period. The Bernie Sanders campaign offered mobile facilitation of supporters to establish an effective force against climate change. “Making it Happen” is both a response to the work of former Sanders aids as well as a call to action to mobilize the silent majority, in order to topple the small minority (”Making it Happen - Out of the Wreckage”). How exactly do progressives develop a coherent dialogue about the intersectionality of environmentalism and other social justice movements?

Word Count: 846 

Citations: 

Klein, “Capitalism vs. the Climate”

Magdoff and Foster, “What Every Environmentalist Needs to Know About Capitalism”

Monbiot, “Making it Happen - Out of the Wreckage”

[theeboyracer]

Epic blooming across from Marx Meadows, Golden Gate Park

#marx meadows #golden gate park #spring time #printemps #sf #san francisco

[ahamay79]

In Honor of P.J. O’Rourke, Here Are His 25 Best Quotes

"I have a 10-year-old at home, and she is always saying, 'That's not fair.' When she says that, I say, ‘Honey, you're cute; that's not fair. Your family is pretty well off; that's not fair. You were born in America; that's not fair. Honey, you had better pray to God that things don't start getting fair for you.’"

24) "I can understand why mankind hasn’t given up war. During a war, you get to drive tanks through the sides of buildings and shoot foreigners – two things that are usually frowned on during peacetime."

23) "The mystery of government is not how Washington works but how to make it stop."

22) "Politics is the business of getting power and privilege without possessing merit."

21) "There’s only one thing about a government proposal of this complexity that we can be sure of: it won’t work. No government proposal more complex than 'This note is legal tender for all debts, public and private' ever works, and that one hasn’t been working lately."

20) "A little government and a little luck are necessary in life, but only a fool trusts either of them."

19) "Authority has always attracted the lowest elements in the human race. All through history, mankind has been bullied by scum. Those who lord it over their fellows and toss commands in every direction and would boss the grass in the meadow about which way to bend in the wind are the most depraved kind of prostitutes. They will submit to any indignity, perform any vile act, do anything to achieve power. The worst-off sloughings of the planet are the ingredients of sovereignty. Every government is a parliament of whores."

18) "There is no virtue in compulsory government charity, and there is no virtue in advocating it. A politician who portrays himself as 'caring' and 'sensitive' because he wants to expand the government’s charitable programs is merely saying that he’s willing to try to do good with other people’s money. Well, who isn’t?"

17) "I’m a registered Republican and consider socialism a violation of the American principle that you shouldn’t stick your nose in other people’s business except to make a buck."

16) "One of the annoying things about believing in free will and individual responsibility is the difficulty of finding somebody to blame your problems on. And when you do find somebody, it’s remarkable how often his picture turns up on your driver’s license."

15) "Giving government money and power is like giving car keys and whiskey to a teenage boy."

14) "Within a family, the dictum of Marx is valid: 'From each according to his abilities, to each according to his needs.' But the family is not a good model for a political system. For one thing, Marxism ceases to work when it is extended outside the family by even so much as the factor of one bum brother-in-law."

13) "These were people who believed everything about the Soviet Union was perfect, but they were bringing their own toilet paper."

12) "You say we [reporters] are distracting from the business of government. Well, I hope so. Distracting a politician from governing is like distracting a bear from eating your baby."

11) "What’s bad for us is good for politicians. They line up to lick our wounds. They love it when we’re hurt."

10) "Never refuse wine. It is an odd but universally held opinion that anyone who doesn’t drink must be an alcoholic."

9) "There’s a whiff of the lynch mob or the lemming migration about any overlarge concentration of like-thinking individuals, no matter how virtuous their cause."

8 "People will tell you anything but what they do is always the truth."

7) "And worrying is less work than doing something to fix the worry. This is especially true if we’re careful to pick the biggest possible problems to worry about. Everybody wants to save the earth; nobody wants to help mom do the dishes."

6) "A hundred years ago when foreign aid was unthought-of (except as tribute or a bribe) we were a respected and admired country. After a century of philanthropy, everyone hates our guts."

5) "If you think healthcare is expensive now, wait until you see what it costs when it’s free."

4) "When buying and selling are controlled by legislation, the first things to be bought and sold are legislators."

3) "The free market is simply a measurement. The free market tells us what people are willing to pay for a given thing at a given moment. That’s all the free market does. The free market is a bathroom scale. We may not like what we see when we step on the bathroom scale, but we can’t pass a law making ourselves weigh 165. Liberals and leftists think we can."

2) "The Democrats are the party that says government will make you smarter, taller, richer, and remove the crabgrass on your lawn. The Republicans are the party that says government doesn’t work and then they get elected and prove it."

1) "There is only one basic human right, the right to do as you damn well please. And with it comes the only basic human duty, the duty to take the consequences."

#pjo fandom #pjo #socialismsucks

[artistsfuneral]

The feeling of Joy.

For @innocentcinnamonpun

It was no secret that Jaskier was not really fond of Yennefer, so they never tried to act like it. Not even in front of Ciri. Ciri, Geralt's child surprise and Yennefer's apprentice. Ciri, Jaskier's... friend?

They seemed to get along quite nicely, right from the beginning. Yennefer was absolutely not jealous. Not when they declared each other as “best mates“ not even three days after Jaskier had joined their travel group. It had taken Ciri weeks to warm up to Geralt and even longer to be comfortable around Yennefer. No, the sorceress was not jealous. She tried to reason with herself, saying again and again, that it was only because of Jaskier's boyish charm that Ciri and Geralt seemed so much happier. But then again... Geralt didn't look at the bard like he would look at a young stable boy, that was just tall enough to reach Roach's backside. He looked at Jaskier... as if the human was capable of making life a better place. It was an adoration Yennefer couldn't understand.

Until she did.

It started one day when they were resting in a meadow full of flowers and Jaskier started teaching Ciri to craft flower crowns (since she was a princess, she insisted to know how to make one of her own) and soon Ciri, Jaskier and all their four horses proudly wore their crowns. Then Ciri quickly got up and held another crown towards Geralt, who paused for a long time, before he carefully took the present into his hands and sat it on top of his hair.

Ciri beamed at him and Geralt softly smiled back. Yennefer was so caught in the moment that she didn't notice the bard until he was running full speed at her. Before she could do anything, he already ran past her and let himself fall into the tall grass of the meadow, giggling and laughing loudly. It took the sorceress a second to realize what had happened that there was now a beautifully made flower crown lying on her head.

Baffled she stared at Jaskier, who was full on beaming at her and slowly she started to understand, while an unfamiliar warmth bloomed inside of her.

After that she noticed it more often and she found herself looking at Jaskier the exact way Geralt looked at him. It was when he and Ciri were jumping into fresh rain puddles after they had been trapped in a cave by a storm for too long. It was when he and Ciri got Geralt to dance with them around the campfire one night. It was when he made jokes abd laughed and giggled and smiled, that Yennefer found herself looking, chest warm and content and she realized that Jaskier brought joy with him.

After nightmares he would sing or tell silly stories for comfort. After rain he would point at the sky to show a rainbow hidden between the trees. After the hurtful words of angry people he would reassure them of their place in the world.

It was no secret that Jaskier was not really fond of Yennefer, but after time the jealous looks would stop, as would the harsh comments. It took time, but they finally understood that what they wanted, they could have. Together.

Cold night turnes into cuddle piles. Arguments into soft bickering and jealousy into love and appreciation.

It was then that Yennefer decided to challenge Destiny again. She excused herself from the group for a bit of peace and quiet and sat down on the earthy ground and let her magic flow.

It was a difficult spell, draining in many ways and it took her hours to form a bond unbreakable. It was a dangerous idea, openly challenging the laws of nature and it was, like she had said... unbreakable. Not even she could take it back and the thought scared her. So she never told them until many, many years later.

“Say, Geralt, isn't it weird?“ Jaskier hold up a letter, “I just recieved word that none other than Valdo Marx has passed away... of old age. Geralt, my love, he was younger than me. The letter says he grew to be 78 this year.“

Geralt's brows knit together in confusion, trying to do the math. Being a Witcher, he never really kept track of the years.

“Geralt. I. Am. 84 Years. Old. Do I look like I am 84?“

Jaskier did in fact not look like an 84 year old man should look like. He didn't look like he was past his mid-twenties.

Yennefer smiled sheepishly fron where she sat in their shared bed. “I might have forgotten to tell you something.“ Geralt gave her a stink eye and Jaskier looked at her in awe. She giggled, not feeling much older than a silly school girl herself. It was a feeling that Jaskier had brought back into her life.

The feeling of joy.

Thank you for the prompt, I hope I could do it justice!! :D

#the witcher #the witcher on netflix #witcher #geralt #geralt of rivia #jaskier #jaskier the bard #yennefer of vengerberg #yennefer #geraskier #yennskier #geralt x jaskier x yennefer #ciri #roach #fanfiction #fanfiction idea #prompt #ask answered #my brain #artistsfuneral about the witcher

[jaskierswolf]

The Grass is Greener Pt.1/3

Summary: Jaskier's mother is coming to stay and his garden is an absolute mess and his lawn mower has seen better days... luckily for him his ridiculously hot neighbour is there to lend a hand. 

Geraskier

CW: Shitty parents being shitty.

(Prompted by @alwenarin and based on this post by @infinite-mirrors)

________

Jaskier stared forlornly out at his garden. His mother was due to come over on her yearly visit and the next few days of his life were going to be hell. His mother was the sort to blast into his life like a fucking tornado, pull apart everything that he had built for himself and leave him broken, shattered into a thousand shards of glass. He wasn’t even sure why he still let her in, probably some childhood trauma that meant he was desperate to please her, to make her proud, but what did he know? He wasn’t a therapist, much to her displeasure. Anything would have been better in her eyes than a musician and occasional bartender.

He didn’t make much money. His band hadn’t taken off yet and only really had a small but dedicated following online that donated pocket money in exchange for small previews of new tracks or little poems that could be given to lovers or in greetings cards. Most of his rent was paid for in the tips he made at the bar. He was lucky to have the house at all really. He shared it with his housemates: Priscilla, his bandmate and ex, Essi, her younger sister, Valdo Marx, his former schoolmate, professional rival and absolutely twat face who lurked in his attic room and never really came out to talk to them, and last but not least, Regis, a kind scholarly type who had been living in the house before the other rooms had become available and most importantly made excellent homemade gin.

Said housemates had agreed to fuck off for the weekend so he could pretend that the house was his in a last ditched attempt win over his mother.

Of course, none of them had helped to tidy up before leaving and he’d spent the last twenty-four hours deep cleaning the house, and bolting the door to Regis’s bathroom shut. The gin in the bathtub wasn’t ready to bottle yet and he wasn’t exactly going to drain the tub of his elixir. He’d moved the furniture in his friend’s rooms around enough to make it look like they weren’t extra bedrooms, more… rooms that just happened to have beds in case he had company. Priscilla’s room now resembled a music room, Essi’s room had been turned into a makeshift study, Valdo’s he’d left a mess and claimed it was just an attic, and Regis’s room was sort of a library if you squinted hard enough.

That just left the garden.

“Bollocks!” He moaned.

None of them really cared much about the garden, apart from the box down the end which housed Regis’s herb garden for cooking. The rest of the garden a mess. The grass was practically a wild meadow filled with weeds. He quite liked it. He enjoyed looking at the dandelions, daisies and buttercups but his mother would have a fit.

Where was he even going to start?

Lawnmower. They must have one. He stumbled through his back door onto the patio and made his way to the shed that honestly barely lived up to its name. It was falling apart and leaked horrendously, but luckily inside was one rusty looking lawnmower.

“Bingo!” He grinned and pulled the mower out of the shed. It was heavier than it looked but luckily Jaskier was also stronger than he looked. Even so he wasn’t entirely how he was going to start the damn thing.

Perhaps Geralt would know…

Fuck.

Geralt.

Geralt had just adopted a newborn baby. Her name was Ciri. Most of the time Geralt just called her ‘Cub’ which Jaskier found to be incredibly endearing, a fact that had nothing to do with his teensy little crush on the mechanic.

He pulled up Geralt’s number in his phone. He’d been delighted when Geralt had given him his number, yes maybe it was because Jaskier kept turning up at Geralt’s doorstep after shifts at work because he’d forgotten his keys and none of his bastard housemates were answering the door and Geralt just happened to have a spare key, but the main thing is he had Geralt’s number.

After that they’d conversed a few times over text. Mostly if one of them was running to the shops and wanted to know if the other needed anything. Occasionally Geralt would text to ask Jaskier if he could watch Ciri for a short while if Geralt needed to leave the house. Once Geralt had even given him a lift to work because Jaskier’s bike had gotten a flat tire and he didn’t have enough time to walk all the way to the bar. So they weren’t exactly strangers but he wouldn’t really call them friends.

In fact Geralt was still listed as Hot Neighbour in his phone. He meant to change it, it was just that you couldn’t argue with the truth. Geralt was his hot neighbour.

 J —Hey Geralt! Is it ok if I mow my lawn? I don’t want to wake Ciri if she’s asleep. :)

He stared at his phone intently until about an eternity later, Geralt replied.

 G — The child must not be an obstacle.

Jaskier snorted as he read the response. He read it aloud a couple of times trying to mimic Geralt’s rough husky voice and managed to give himself the giggles.

His phone buzzed again.

 G — I can hear you laughing at me.

“Oh shit!” He almost dropped his phone and his cheeks felt like they were on fire. “Sorry Geralt!” He called into the air.

 G— Hmm.

Jaskier scoffed. Who text back “Hmm”? And why did Jaskier still find that so attractive?

But never mind that! He had the green light. Operation Finally Make His Mother Proud, or FMHMP for short, and yes you could absolutely say that if you tried hard enough, was go! He was going to mow the lawn like a proper adult!

He tried for about six years to turn the mower on but without any success. He kicked the lawnmower in frustration and the whole damned thing fell apart.

“Fuck it!” He yelled as he hopped about on his good foot that hadn’t been battered by lawnmower.

He sulked back into the house and flopped down dramatically on the sofa. It was over. His mother was going to hate him and he would die as a disgrace to the Pankratz name and the Lettenhove estate.

He was half way through his pity party when the doorbell rang. He grabbed his phone to check the time. Strange, his mother wasn’t due for another three hours.

“What the fuck?” He mused and padded over to the door. To his surprise Geralt was standing on his doorstep with Ciri tucked safely into a baby sling on his chest and behind him was a shiny lawnmower. “Ah. Geralt!” He grinned.

Geralt turned to the lawnmower and back to him. “Thought you might need some help.”

Jaskier blushed. “Right. Yes. Of course. Come on in!” He stood back to let Geralt through. “Oh, actually do you want to come round the side gate? The lawnmower probably shouldn’t come through the house. I’ve just cleaned up.”

Geralt grunted but followed Jaskier around the side of the house and into the back garden.

“What the fuck, Jaskier?” He grumbled when he saw the state of the lawn. “I thought you said you were mowing the lawn, not trying to find it!”

“Ah, yes, well. That is an excellent point.” Jaskier stammered, pulling at the hem of his shirt nervously. “You see my mother is visiting.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow. “Your mother, how old are you? Twelve?”

Jaskier gaped at his neighbour. “Geralt!” He whined. “I’m twenty-nine! Mother is just a cow.”

“Hmm. Fine. Let’s do this.” Geralt pulled Ciri gently out of her sling and passed her to Jaskier. “Hold her. I need to grab her stuff. This will take longer than I thought.”

“Oh hang on!” Jaskier called after Geralt but it was too late and Ciri began to cry. “Umm. There there.” He cooed and rocked her gently. “Shall I sing you a lullaby, cub?”

She didn’t answer, babies rarely did, so he decided a lullaby would be fine and began to sing in hushed tones as he rocked her in his arms. Geralt wasn’t long but he seemed surprise to come back to Jaskier rocking his daughter to sleep in his arms.

“Hmm. She likes you.” Geralt noted.

He was carrying Ciri’s car seat and a bag was slung over his shoulder. In his other hand was a large electric contraption with some nasty blades at the end. He dumped the scary looking monster and placed the travel cot on the patio table. Once Ciri was safely asleep they got to work.

Or more accurately, Geralt got to work. Jaskier mostly just watched and made sure Geralt had all the refreshments he needed. He also kept the conversation going by listing all the grievances his mother had with him from her last visit, Geralt hummed and grunted but didn’t offer much in return but it didn’t matter. Jaskier was more than capable of holding an entire conversation by himself.

“And then she starts wittering on about how my sister has a perfect husband and a darling little angel.” Jaskier moaned. “So of course then it’s ‘Julian why don’t you have a wife?’”

“Julian?” Geralt asked.

Jaskier glared at his neighbour. “Don’t ever call me that, I beg of you.”

Geralt shrugged. “I won’t. Just asking.”

“And I tell her, for the hundredth time, to say partner or spouse or lover or you know… not gender specific because she knows! Geralt! She knows. I don’t know how many times I have to tell her.” Jaskier sighed. “Oh, umm I’m bisexual just to give you some context there.”

Geralt nodded. “Right.”

“So of course she starts complaining that I always have to make everything gay, and I’m like… ‘Mother, I am gay!’” Jaskier announced with wide arms.

Geralt looked up at him, pausing halfway down the lawn that was now starting to resemble a lawn. “So why not tell her you’re seeing someone?” He asked. “Solve both problems if you say it’s a guy.”

Jaskier put his hands on his hips and tilted his head. “Yeah.” He scoffed. “Until she asks to meet him.”

Geralt shrugged. “I could do it.”

Jaskier’s heart jumped in his chest. “You what? Geralt!”

“My ex has been bothering me about finding someone.” He grumbled. “Two birds, One stone.”

Jaskier narrowed his eyes at his insanely hot neighbour who was now apparently suggesting they… fake date??

“What exactly are you suggesting here?” Jaskier asked slowly. “You pretend to be my boyfriend for my mother’s visit and we what? Send a few photos to your ex to prove you’re moving on?”

Geralt smirked. “As long as you promise not to fall in love with me.”

Jaskier’s jaw dropped.

Well fuck. _______

Next

#the witcher #geraskier #geraskier fanfiction #geralt of rivia #jaskier pankratz #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #geralt/jaskier #cirilla fiona elen riannon #ciri #dad geralt #surprise fake dating #I could be persuaded to write a second part #let me know if you want part 2 #Update there will now be three parts #ask and you shall receive #the grass is greener

[jaskiersvalley]

Thank you so much for your amazing writing!! I love all the ficlets and fics you have posted in your tumblr. Would you believe me if I say that everyday I log into tumblr to see if you have posted anything else? I have been in quarantine in my house for a month (government issued quarantine) but you always get me to smile. So thank you!! And keep on!! Ps: i love the fics in which you make jaskier interact with the rest of the wolves causing and initial panic as they are not used to affection.

I really hope quarantine has treated you well, Nonnie and things are easier wherever in the world you are!  It make my little heart soar to know that my writing has brought a smile to your face. May this next little fic for you give you a little more to smile about today. I really hope you enjoy it!

As far as travelling companions went, Geralt was quite pleased with Jaskier. Minus his annoying tendency to chatter, to constantly play music and be a general pest. There wasn’t anything special about him, except for the high notes he could hit when given enough incentive. He obviously hadn’t seen enough of the world, given how constantly cheerful he was, happily bounding along after Geralt into all manner of fights. Which was downright unfortunate when Geralt ended up facing off against a leshen and miscalculated. Distantly, he could hear Jaskier’s shout and Geralt had just enough time left to feel guilty at making Jaskier witness his death and also probably be slaughtered by the leshen. But as his mind turned to the shame and indignity of such a stupid death, Geralt slipped from the land of the living.

He really didn’t expect to blink his eyes open to see Jaskier peering down at him, lute in hand.

“Ah, I was wondering when you would deign to wake up. Come on now, the day is wasting away. We have contract to claim the reward on then I want to sing in the tavern for a dinner. I have a new song I need to try.”

Geralt sat up with a groan and looked down at his stomach. His clothes had a large gash in them but underneath it, his skin was pristine, not even a scar to show some evidence of accelerate healing.

“I died,” he grunted.

“Yeah, but you got better.”

That made zero sense but Jaskier was already off, strumming his lute and humming, obviously not interested in having a conversation. It was possibly for the first time in his life.

After that incident, Geralt paid more attention and he began to see a pattern. Wherever Jaskier went, meadows blossomed, vases perked up, there was even the incident with the kitten and the crying children. After Jaskier declared that an adult ought to have a look, the kitten was running around and the children cried no more. Only, Geralt had seen enough dead things to know that the kitten had most definitely not been alive three minutes earlier.

“Are you a necromancer?” he asked without any preamble, once they had settled on their bedrolls for the night.

“No.” While the answer was the truth, Jaskier still sounded hesitant.

“But? I know you brought that kitten back to life. And me, after that incident with the leshen.”

“Okay, technically I’m not a necromancer. I’m just-” Jaskier scratched the back of his neck and looked down before mumbling, “kind of on really good terms with Death.”

Once again, it made zero sense so Geralt just stared at Jaskier. It did the trick because more words came forth.

“I sort of died and didn’t realise it, was a bit too busy composing. Well, Death heard my song and liked it. Like, really liked it. Now, I just have to play a song and ask Death and, well, you’ve seen what happens. Plus, Death likes it when I’m happy so I can work little things like flowers and the sorts without their input.”

Trust Jaskier to charm Death. Geralt was half tempted to start smacking his head against the wall because he actually should have expected it. Jaskier was too pure to be a necromancer.

“Okay,” Geralt said because there was nothing else to say really. And so, they continued along their travels. Winter saw them in Kaer Morhen with the other wolves and Geralt had all but forgotten to mention Jaskier’s otherworldly friend who helped out.

At first, it wasn’t obvious. Sure, Lambert was ecstatic that his cactus had survived, even bore a flower a few days after their arrival but that was just strange. Vesemir’s herb garden seemed to be exceptionally bountiful. The only thing that was strange was the way the witchers could sense the opening of a portal every now and then but by the time they got to it, all they could see was Jaskier, strumming at his lute and singing something bright yet mournful, occasionally downright macabre.

One by one, the witchers figured it out, or at least thought they did. Geralt had to reassure his family that Jaskier wasn’t a necromancer, they would have been able to detect the sharp burn of such magic. But proof came when, one morning, Eskel entered the great hall, face crumpled with grief, the body of a goat in his arms.

“It’s Li’l Bleater,” he said, voice shaking ever so slightly. “I don’t know what happened.”

Lambert had skidded around the corner and marched up to Eskel, pulling him into a hug as soon as the goat’s body was gently laid down. There wasn’t anything he could rally say to make it better.

“He was in his pen, safely locked in.” Eskel was trembling a little but there were no tears. “I don’t know what happened to him.”

Jaskier padded closer and suddenly Geralt knew what was going to happen. A hand darted out to stroke over Li’l Bleater’s head before Jaskier settled to pluck a few chords on his lute, starting into a slow song.

“Now is not the time for this, bard,” Lambert spat, turning to snarl at Jaskier and his insensitive ways. “This is Eskel’s- Oh fuck me.”

On the ground Li’l Bleater blinked awake and kicked to get back up onto four legs. Letting out a soft bleat, he trotted up to Eskel and butted against his leg.

It was the moment Vesemir entered the room and he frowned, looking between Eskel and his goat. “How many times have I told you, no animals in the keep. I haven’t had to tell you that since you were fifty.”

The secret was out about Jaskier though and he had to, once again, explain how he might have become buddies with Death. Nodding with a frown, Vesemir obviously had a few concerns.

“So Death only ever brings things back to life for you. Never the other way round?”

Jaskier’s eyes widened in realisation and Geralt had to snatch the lute from his grasp as a mutter of “Valdo Fucking Marx” left Jaskier’s lips.

“And who else knows about this ability you have harnessed?”

Looking at Jaskier, it was obvious there was someone else. However, he was reluctant to say who and betray their confidence. It didn’t matter though because a week later, a portal opened in the courtyard where the witchers were practising while Jaskier strummed at a new song. Of all the people, it was Yennefer who walked through it, a body slung over her shoulder.

“Again?” Jaskier asked with a sigh but he diligently played a new song for Death as payment. On the floor, Stregobor gasped to life. “Try and keep him alive for more than two weeks this time, I need time to compose songs worthy enough.”

Nodding her thanks, Yennefer gripped Stregobor and disappeared through another portal without a word. Three sets of yellow eyes turned to Geralt who looked just a little shell shocked. He was definitely going to be more careful around Yennefer after that, he did not want to end up on her wrong side.

#geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #eskel #lambert #vesemir #yennefer of vengerberg #tldr: jaskier is not a necromancer but still brings things back to life from the dead

[geraskierficrecs]

For the prompt: No one is always in their best spirits and everyone has low, tough days, and sometimes with the highest highs come the lowest lows. This includes Jaskier. Why not Geralt dealing with one of the bard’s rare low days? Maybe for the first time or later on, after he knows what works best to ease Jaskier’s melancholy.

Thanks for the prompt!  Enjoy!

_______________________________________________________

It’s been twenty four hours since Jaskier last played.

Normally, such a spree of silence would have been a treat to the Witcher.  Now, he hesitates beside Roach and watches the bard as they make camp.

The man is silent, fingers unmoving.  The usual song and dance that seems to emanate from every movement is as funeral march.  His face is somber, thoughts turned inward in a way that settled oddly on the expressive features.  

Geralt frowns at his saddle.  The fact that he even notices such things is a symbol of just how much traveling with Jaskier has changed him down to his marrow.  He finds himself worrying about things that used to be nothing more than trivial.  Is their fire large enough to chase away the night chill?  Is there a river or creek close enough to let the bard bathe away the road dust?

Is Jaskier happy here in the woods with only the Witcher and monsters to keep him company?

All his mind can seem to focus on now is the silence.

Something is wrong, a quiet voice whispers within Geralt.  Maybe he’s sick.

Maybe he finally realized that he doesn’t want to be with me.

The thought alone feels like a bolt of agony.  If Jaskier wanted to leave, Geralt would never stop him.  He would also never recover the piece of his heart the bard took with him.  It was a strange thing to suddenly be faced with just how important Jaskier had become over the years of traveling together.  The prospect of traveling alone now feels like the worst sort of torment.

He licks his lips, anxiety an unfamiliar pit in his stomach, and faces the bard.

“Jaskier,” he says softly, “are you alright?”

The bard looks startled by the question.  He blinks, then frowns.  “Of course, Witcher.  I’m not hurt.”

Geralt makes a frustrated sound close to a growl and watches Jaskier return to his task of setting out the bedrolls.  He wishes speech came as easily to him as it did the human.  He scrabbles at the words that would chase away the shadows lingering at the edges of the blue sky that is Jaskier’s eyes and feels them disappear like smoke.  

Roach stamps her foot in a passive aggressive reminder that she still needs to be brushed down and he scowls.  Resolve fills him as he begins to pull the heavy saddle and blanket off her back.

Words may not come easy, but deeds...deeds he can do.

__________________________________

The next morning, he wakes himself just as dawn is cresting over the distant hills.  He creeps away from camp and returns with a brace of hares that are simmering merrily over the fire by the time Jaskier opens his eyes.

The bard smiles quizzically at where Geralt is sitting anxiously casually beside the unexpectedly nice breakfast. “Well, isn’t this a nice surprise,” he says after a beat.

Geralt grunts, but his eyes are fixed on the soft smile that fades after their meal is finished and it’s time to head out.

Again, he waits for the usual musical notes and rhymes that color each mile they travel and is disappointed by only a few comments about the weather.

He clenches his jaw and stares into the distant curve of the road.  He will just have to try harder to convince Jaskier that this life of travel can still bring him joy and inspiration.

_________________________________

The next morning there is a freshly skinned wolf pelt drying across Roach’s haunches that would make a lovely coat.

Jaskier looks at it for a moment in confusion.  “I’m sure Yennefer will enjoy it.”

“It’s for you,” Geralt blurts, feeling a hot flush creep up his neck.

The human blinks, shock evident.  He rakes his fingers through his hair and seems to search for words.  “I--uh, thank you, Geralt.  That was kind of you.”

Geralt hums and turns away before he has to come up with a response to the question in the bard’s eyes.

_________________________________

The next day he deposits a small bouquet of flowers, dotted with the bright yellows of dandelions and buttercups, on Jaskier’s bedroll while the man is still deep asleep.  

He starts to move back toward his bedroll, already concocting some sort of excuse for the gift, when a hand reaches out of the pile of blankets and closes around his ankle.

Geralt turns his head and finds bright blue eyes frowning up at him.

“Why are you doing this?” Jaskier whispers.

Words fail him.  He stares at him, trying to find the right words, and sees the moment when Jaskier’s temper flares to the surface.

“It’s not fair to tease me like this.  I know I’ve always been a joke to you, Geralt, but this is becoming cruel.”

Geralt frowns, shocked by the accusation.  “I--I’m not teasing you.”

“Well, what other explanation do you have for all this--this?” Jaskier asks with a gesture to the flowers that have fallen to the ground beside his blankets and the pelt hanging near the fire.

He flushes, fighting the frustration and embarrassment that feels like it’s choking him.  “You were sad!” he practically shouts, “I was trying to make you happy again before you--you--”

Jaskier’s hand tightens around his ankle and he looks down at it, frowning.  Mentally he prepares himself for the rejection and farewell that he knows is coming.

“Before I what?”

Geralt’s voice is as flat as he imagines Valdo Marx’s voice must be.  “Before you left.”

Now it’s Jaskier’s turn to frown.  He sits up, head even with Geralt’s waist and gestures for the Witcher to sit next to him.  He does so despite the way his skin seems to itch with the need to move.  “Why would I leave?”

“You...you’re unhappy here,” Geralt says quietly, a sinner confessing the worst of their guilt, “You’ve always enjoyed the city life.  It’s obvious that you would want to return to it once the excitement wore off of traveling.”

There was a long pause while Geralt stared down at the scars marring his palms in a permanent testament to the dangers of this life.  He nearly jumps when he feels another hand settle on his knee.

“I’m not leaving you, Geralt.”

The Witcher shivers under the weight of those words and gathers the strength to look up at Jaskier.  “I can’t make you happy,” he says miserably.

“You did all this to make me happy?” Jaskier asks, a small smile twitching at his lips.

Geralt nods, unsure.

Then he’s falling back under the weight of his bard, sleep warm and burrowing against Geralt like a drowning man to shore.  Geralt’s breath leaves him in a relieved rush and he wraps his hands around the smaller human, settling him more firmly against him and filling his lungs with the comforting scent.  Cedar.  Wood oil.  Meadow grass.  

Jaskier.

The bard makes a soft sound of relief and happiness that Geralt can smell tinging his scent with notes of orange and sunlight.  He tightens his hold and shifts until his breath is warm on Geralt’s neck.

“Just hold me, my love.  That’s all I need.”

[one-leaf-grimoire]

“triad”

Chapter 17: the waning sun

Kind of a sad chapter? I mean that's nothing new tho. But fair warning: the death is of a character that some people like a lot :( Me included.

AO3 LINK

My head still pounds as I take flight. My body wobbles, ungainly, as it’s still a little early for me to be moving around so much. Marx was right about that, at least. I squint a little against the bracing wind and bright sunlight. The sun is getting close to the western horizon. Yami and William are over there somewhere, along with the queen of the Heart Kingdom. Our enemy is over there.

No… they aren’t my enemies.

I turn my gaze back south, towards the green of the Heart Kingdom. Two words circle through my mind, again and again, endlessly pounding themselves into my brain along with the dull agony of my quickly approaching fate.

Patri… 

Elysia.

A secluded village of elves located in the strong magic region to the southwest of the Heart Kingdom, that is where Patri and the third eye traveled to after the whole reincarnation incident. I can remember now, the request to leave. I was hesitant to agree, but in the end, I convinced myself not to care so much and to move on. Unneeded anger would just make my last hours unpleasant. 

But now… that anger is needed. I close my eyes and focus on those moments before, where there was nothing I wanted more than to kill him with my own hands.

He… he killed Julius.

But it wasn’t his fault.

You can’t think about the Devil. Just him.

The memory of that dreadful moment floods back. Pain, searing through my heart as if I had been stabbed through with pure light. I remember how I screamed and writhed, and begged for it to end.

Julius… that pain… it was his.

I open my eyes. All my doubts are gone.

And Patri… you’re the one who gave him that pain.

Those same thoughts circle through my head, stoking a growing flame. A flame I need to burn away all pity and doubt that I might develop later, when the time comes. But even within this vicious spiral, my mind begins to wander.

The baby… it was a girl.

It is a girl.

I clench my fist by my side as I continue to fly. The unforgiving wind blows any evidence of tears away before they can streak down my face.

I had to do it… I had to leave her behind. If I saw that baby, everything would come crashing down around me, I know it. I can’t afford to lose any more time. The fate of the entire world depends on it.

And after all… she would be born again, into a kinder world.

With a resounding whoosh, I fall down into the dense forest, leaves and branches whipping past my body, before landing on my feet on the forest floor. The wind clears, and the bushes rustle as anyone in the area runs to find a place to hide. I close my eyes again, taking in a deep breath. The air here is saturated with mana. It’s familiar on my skin; maybe a memory of Saida’s when she possessed my body. In any case, I’m here, and it’s time to find Patri.

I walk by myself through the forest, not sure of how long my search will be.

“W-What?!”

Pretty short, it turns out. I turn at the sound of the familiar voice, freezing up as I spot a group of people hurrying towards me.

“Noelle?”

The silver haired girl leads the pack. Her eyes light up as she realizes that it is, indeed, me. Behind her runs none other than Mimosa, quickly followed by Nero, Leopold, and Charmy bringing up the rear. For a moment, I let myself smile genuinely. They are truly a sight for sore eyes. 

I stay where I am, and let Noelle throw herself into my arms. “Why are you here? And-”

“The baby-” Mimosa asks, worried. “I thought you weren’t due for a couple more months-”

I gulp nervously. “I… I gave birth prematurely. Don’t worry, the baby is fine-”

“Are you here to train us too?!” Leopold cuts in excitedly. “Gadjah and the elves have been helping us for the past few days!”

Nero nods along silently.

His excitement is refreshing; in fact, all of the kids radiate a confidence and determination that I can’t help but feel like I lack. For a brief moment, I forget the morbid reason why I’m here. These kids are the next generation, after all; one of them will be Wizard King one day. I want to answer Yes, I’m here to train you. We’ll defeat the Spade Kingdom together!

But I don’t say it.

“I’m… actually here to see Patri,” I finally respond, watching as Noelle stands back to look at me curiously. “I don’t know how long it’ll take, but I need to talk to him. Can one of you-”

“I’m here.”

My expression drops a little, as I turn around to look at the elf who just emerged from the woods. Patri looks the same as he always has, albeit with a black sclera in one of his eyes, dressed in comfortable robes. I exhale softly, my heart starting to pound at the sight of him. I’m not sure if it’s with apprehension or anger. “Hello… um…” I glance over at the kids. “Can we go somewhere private?”

Patri gives me a long look before answering. “Yeah, of course.” He gestures for me to follow him back into the woods. I turn and flash a quick smile at the kids before proceeding.

Neither of us talk as he leads me down the ancient forest path. The silence is only broken by the soft sounds of our shoes moving over the grass, punctuated by a snapping twig every now and then. I keep my thoughts to myself, my gaze fixed on Patri’s ponytail. Part of me just wants to get it over with as soon as we’re out of earshot of the others; to strike him down and take the key I need. 

But I don’t do such a thing. I keep walking, clenching my fists at my sides.

I want to do it properly. Maybe Patri killed Julius, but I still respect him as a warrior. He defeated me in battle, after all… I owe him the last respect of telling him why I have to do this.

“This is the first time we’ve been alone together since we fought.”

Patri finally speaks, turning his head slightly to glance back at me. He slows to a stop in a clearing, at the base of a large tree. Flowers dot the meadow, species that I’m unfamiliar with. A few butterflies and bees flit between the stems. “Do you remember?”

“... of course.” I smile a little, crossing my arms as I walk around to look into his eyes. He seems so calm… and oddly resigned. “It was a humiliating defeat.”

At those words, Patri’s mouth twitches for just a moment, and a sound that could be interpreted as a laugh leaves his lips. “I wouldn’t say that… you fought bravely. And you’ve grown so much since then. I mean… you’re the Wizard King now…”

His voice trails off as he breaches that subject. My breath catches in my throat, and I quickly look away. My inner flame flares up again.

How dare you… even think about him…

But it’s quickly quelled as a bird lets out a call, somewhere far above. The awkwardness is still thick, but not hostile.

“So… what did you need?”

For some odd reason, those words do not form a question. He already knows, doesn’t he?

Summoning a last bastion of courage, I raise my gaze back to his. “We’ll be facing the Dark Triad head on in two days… one of them has a power that I need to take for myself. But his gravity magic will cancel out my time magic, and my flame magic won’t be enough to defeat him.”

Silence.

Slowly, Patri lets out a sigh through his nose, his eyes closing for just a moment before flickering open again.

“...how will you take it? The same way you’ll take my light magic?”

I wince internally, his words confirming that he already knew his fate. “Y-yes… although, I don’t want to take your magic by force.” I reach up and rub my other arm, aches shooting through it again. “I can form a link with anyone with a soul. The link I’ll make with you is called a Triad, a union of three souls. Usually, we’d only be able to share memories and magic, but I need to actually take your magic this time.” I almost look away, but it’s like I said before: I owe him this once last respect. “You will likely die in the process, especially since it’s your first time.”

My words hang in the air between us, and part of me wonders if he really understands it.

“...I see.” Patri finally turns away from me, walking towards the trunk of the mighty tree. “This is why you kept me around, right?”

I raise an eyebrow, wondering what he was going to do next. “Well… I didn’t know I would end up needing your magic back then-”

“No.” Patri reaches out, his palm flattening against the wood. He exhales slowly, calmly…

“You kept me around… because you knew that my death would one day help the kingdom.”

Help the kingdom? I mean… you’re right…

“Either way… I was going to die. I knew it from the start. And I don’t blame you.” Patri lets his hand fall from the tree before facing me again. “Whether it was to unite your people… or to defeat an enemy… or even just to help you feel better, I’ve accepted my death.”

We stare at each other for a moment, the understanding settling in. My heart races still, something I thought would stop once I “convinced” him. But in the end, that wasn’t necessary.

Patri… even you are selfless. To the highest degree.

Thank you.

“Patri...”

He does what I want. Patri slowly falls to his knees, his hands resting in the grass. 

I… I wish this could be different.

“For your crimes against the kingdom…”

The words don’t feel as good as I thought they would. I feel like I’ve waited for this moment for years, and yet… I can’t bring myself to feel happy.

But I need to do this.

“...I sentence you to death.”

My hand reaches down, and I feel my mark start to heat up. Patri’s eyes squeeze shut, and I see the same glow start to take shape on his forehead.

Dyad Magic.

He grits his teeth. There’s already blood trickling out of his nose.

Triad Creation.

My hand lands on his head, and the earth shatters around us.

….

….

….

….

                                                                                      It’s dark in here…

There are people screaming.

                                                                           How dare you… how dare you…

I lived this memory, didn’t I?

                                              I stare up at the dark sky as my life fades away.

No… Patri. This is your memory. Maybe Saida was here too, but this is you.

                                                                        It hurts… it hurts so much…

The pain in my heart intensifies. Everything fades away, and I float farther into the abyss. All that exists is pain, stabbing through my head and heart. 

                                                         Please… make this quick…

I’m trying.

I sink deeper and deeper into his mind. The pain gets worse and worse, but for once it’s not mine. Patri’s soul shrinks and contorts in my grasp, like a dying animal that wants nothing more than to be put out of its misery.

A triad… between Patri, Julius, and myself.

The three of us stand there in the darkness. Julius is just an outline, just a memory of a soul. 

                          Do you really think… my love is that weak?

What did you mean by that? 

I wish I could have found it, wherever you hid it, Julius. But it’s too late.

                                                                                                    You’re… dying?

Patri’s voice echoes through my head, and I turn to look at him. He looks afraid, but there’s pity dwelling within those golden eyes.

… do not pity me. This is my fate. 

                                                                                                    But-

Don’t you dare look at me like that!

My hands reach out, and I stagger forward. Patri doesn’t even flinch as I grab his collar and shake him once, hard. I feel something building up inside, where there used to be nothing, a glowing ember of rage.

You… you KILLED HIM!

I shake him again, and again. Patri does not struggle. Something snaps, and I ball up my fist.

You’re pathetic… you’re a villain! 

                                                                                                    I know.

You killed him- TELL ME-

The memory rushes back. Agony, pure agony, my heart stabbed right through, and my life bleeding onto the stone while the sun bled it’s life into the sky.

I felt his pain…

Patri, tell me…

Did he cry? Did he resist? Did he leave this earth writhing and screaming in the same way that he entered it?

                                                                                                    … he....

                                                                                      I don’t want to remember.

I grit my teeth, seeing nothing but red. My fist draws back in preparation to punch.

You’re the most evil being on this earth!

                                                                                                    I know.

I hit him, hard, in the center of his face. Patri stumbles back, then falls onto the ground. 

I… I hate-

I can’t even finish the sentence, because it’s not true. 

I can’t hate Patri… maybe I convinced myself to hate him, but I can’t. Because, in the end, it wasn’t his fault. Everything ties back to the devil, to the original sin. And in the end… I would have done the same thing as him. I would have burned the entire world to the ground in my vengeance.

                                                  And I will.

Patri shatters into a million pieces, and the world dissolves around me. Light suddenly floods my mind, bright, beautiful light emanating from a new shard of a soul lodged within my own. For a brief moment, our souls were one, sharing all thoughts, all memories, all feelings.

Tears drip down my face as I stare up at the sun. It’s warmth bathes me, but I only feel cold.

For a brief moment… Patri shares something with me. Something I have long forgotten.

                                                  Self.

That broken ego, that barrier that once defined who I was, is momentarily restored.

The sun burns the stone around me. The light in my hands concentrates, intensifying into a long lance- no, a sword- 

Wait… wait… this memory…

My eyes widen as something drips onto my hand.

Blood.

Slowly, I look up, my gaze travelling up the lance of the sword. Blood drips down it, pooling for a moment on the handle, on my clenched fist, before splattering onto the ground at my feet. 

No… no…

Julius stands there, his stature slumped and pained… but he still stands. 

His eyes burn into mine, into my soul, but this time it’s like hellfire rather than holy light. With a hollow gasp, I let go of the handle and stumble back away from him. But he doesn’t fall- he continues to stand, and I cannot escape his gaze.

My heart pounds. I’m frozen in this horrifying memory. 

He opens his mouth to speak. Blood drips from the corners.

But he doesn’t fall.

Julius…

I can’t breathe.

You… you’re so strong…

I watch the sword dissolve away, leaving only a deep, bleeding gash through his chest, through the heart that I loved with every ounce of my soul.

I… I would have fallen.

And I did. Because here I am… stealing the soul that would give me the power to defeat Gravity. And once I defeat gravity…

I could never be like you, right?

You would have fought until the very end… but I gave up.

I am weak. So weak… as weak as I was the day I was born.

There is no love in his eyes. There is no pity. 

                                                  Why?

His lips move to form that single word.

My answer does its best to stay lodged in my throat, because I am afraid of what I will say.

Because…. The world is going to end. This all happened because of my weakness.

I want to look away, but I can’t. He’s the sunset at the horizon, and I can’t bring myself to close my eyes.

There is no future for me… and now there is no future for this Kingdom. Not without you.

I clench my fist, my resolve building.

I don’t care if I have to become the most evil person in the world… I will recreate this world!

But with Julius’s next words, the tower of my determination is struck down.

                                No… you are ensuring its destruction.

With each new word, more blood seeps from his body, down his chin to stain the white fur of his robe.

                         Either way… the world will end. Because of you.

The scene begins to fade away. The light disappears. All that’s left are Julius’s dead eyes, staring into mine through the darkness. The Self fades away with Patri’s life, dissolving away in my hands. Once again, I am left with a cold, empty soul, the two worst parts of me settling back in.

I… I am nothing.

                                                  You are nothing.

I am a monster.

                                                  You are a monster.

I will destroy the world.

                                You will destroy the world. And for what?

For… you.

…

Silence.

Then, the sounds of the forest finally fade back in around me. I breathe in, and something slips out of my hands and falls to the ground with a dull thud. 

The air is fresh. Mana hangs around me. I open my eyes to see the sunset finally gasping it’s last breath.

There’s a body at my feet. I don’t know if he’s still alive. But it doesn’t matter. I turn away, then drop to my knees. The grass is cold and wet, but it feels so… refreshing.

My tears soon join the dew clinging to the blades.

Julius…

I ball up my fist, uprooting a bit of the grass in my clutches.

You lied… your love doesn’t still exist on this earth.

I lower my head, until it bumps into the ground. My mark thuds with pain at the impact, but I don’t react.

You would hate me. 

My worst fear, finally realized.

My chest heaves as I continue to cry. Everything hurts, every cell in my body. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot something blue flitting towards me. A moth- no

Simulcia.

For a moment, I almost give in and let them land on me. 

If Julius hates me… what’s the point? I should just die, right here. 

I almost resign myself to the decision, but in the moment before she lands, my hand jerks up. With one quick movement, I swat the bug away. My eyes widen when I realize what I’ve done, and I sit up with a jolt. 

It’s not a moth. It’s a butterfly. Just… a normal butterfly. It spins in the air for a moment, confused from the impact, but then it straightens itself out and flies away.

The sounds of bugs and the wind fills the silence around me. The trees rustle on their own, the magic breathing in and out. Slowly but surely, my breath falls into the same rhythm, and I feel myself start to calm down.

Breathe.

Someone once told me to breathe. To inhale and exhale, and think of nothing but that cycle.

Cycle.

I hold up my hand, palm up towards the sky. Almost instinctively, the new soul within me stirs, and a ball of light appears. Good- I clench my fist, and the light slides over my arm like a long glove. I tense up, then punch the air. Once. Then again. And one more time. Each time, the light glows brighter, and I can feel my control already strengthening.

It… it was that easy? I open my palm again, and the light retracts into its ball once more.

All I had to do was take control of a Triad, to reach into Patri’s soul, shatter it into a million pieces, and then take one for myself.

It was that easy.

Patri is powerful. And I know Dante will be even more powerful. But thanks to his sacrifice, I now have a better chance of finding victory.

And that’s what it will be. A victory. Maybe not for myself, but for the world.

There is no such thing as myself anymore, anyway. I am just a memory. A person who was loved, but now hated. A person who once had hope, but now it only exists in my death. A person who was once human… but now has given her humanity up.

I am nothing. I am evil. I am a monster. And I will destroy the world.

I turn to lift off the ground, leaving the body behind. I need to find a place, up high, where the air is clear and I can soak up mana for the time remaining before the invasion. I need to clear my mind and concentrate all the power I have, all for my last fight.

The entire world will hate me for what I do. One more man won’t make a difference.

It is a lie.

#fic #triad #oh boy oh fuck #oc: lisa #bc oc #black clover

[trashy-doodles]

honestly people want to gloat about how big our brains got from an omnivorous diet and how smart we are and all that crap but can you imagine if our ancestors just ate fruit and grass and we evolved into moose instead. like instead of critical thinking skills we could just be in a meadow no thoughts head empty, eating leaves, and stabbing motherfuckers with our horns but instead we’re monkies with smartphones watching our world collapse while we post shit like “haha what if Marx had an ass so big its claps would scare the bourgeois” to get a rush of seratonin